


Mending

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Post TFA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 15:07:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8672128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Kylo heals from his wounds, both mental and physical.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Scar Tissue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8397697) by [Davechicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken). 



It is later, much later when he allows her into his bubble again. All the way, with the boundaries between them melting. He’s guarded his scar tissue jealously, given it space to heal. 

The skin is pale, the swelling gone, but the marks will never truly fade. They lie in bed together, and her hand flows around - avoiding - reminding him of everything that escaped ‘unscathed’. She never pushes for the injured parts, she knows how much they can hurt.

But today, with her legs bent into his, with her kisses to the curve of his neck… his fingers meet with hers, and bring them like a protective detail around an honoured ambassador. He welcomes them by degrees into the valleys of his hurts, and she traces up the riverbed. So gentle, feeling the furrows and the difference in texture. She has scars, but none as deep as these.

Up her hand goes, across his throat, and he turns in the bed to face her.

“I am ugly,” he says, at last. His eyes downcast and broken. “I failed.”  


“You survived,” she says, and kisses the start of the war-mark. “You came back to me.”  


“But I am–”  


“Beautiful,” she reminds him. “If you need proof, let me show you. Look inside me.”  


Phasma kisses the start of the mark, and then lightly scores her fingers down his chest. She draws four lines over each half of her torso, and her touch doesn’t discriminate his skin, wounded or not. Her hands find his hips, and she kisses all over his face, making it all one mass of lip-touched warm. 

“You don’t… you aren’t disappointed that I failed?”  


“You didn’t fail,” she repeats. “Or if you did, so did I.” Not her finest moment, and she will never forget it. She lowered the shield… he only lost a battle. “And I failed us all.”

He startles, and grabs for her hands. “You didn’t.”

“Then why do you say you did?”  


“I… was meant to be the Leader’s right hand.”  


“You were shot, Kylo. You were _shot_. And you still took on two of them, and you _still_ survived.”  


She pulls her hand - his still holding on - and places her own fingers on his side. On the worst mark, the blast-site and splatter pattern out from it. He winces, but she spreads her palm over it, covering as much as her span will allow. 

“You fought _so_  hard,” Phasma reminds him. “And you didn’t let _three_ of them take you down. Three of them.”   


Kylo shrinks into himself, and she pushes him over, onto his back. Grabs his hands. Forces them into the pillows either side of his head. 

“Phasma…”  


“Shut up,” she growls, a little fire in her belly. “You _survived_. You can get _stronger_. But you can only do that if you _live_. You think a few lines on your skin mean anything to me? Well, they do: they show me how _hard_ you fight. They are marks of _honour_ , not of defeat. Every fight you crawl away from is one you _survived_.”  


His eyes go wide, and his lips part around a protest his tongue no longer knows.

“You are beautiful,” she says, and licks through the stripe across his face, pushing hard with her tongue. “Beautiful,” and she licks the score across his shoulder. “So very strong,” and she dives down, her hands moving as she wraps her lips around the mark on his side. She licks this one harder, licks it until he’s grabbing at her hair, at her shoulders.  


He whispers soft gratitude, and she puts a hand on each side of his torso, showing him each feels the same as the other. Over the wound, and over the unmarked hide. Her kisses circle around his belly, and her mouth goes lower to kiss at his groin. There’s a moment where she’s not sure he’ll be able to respond, but she doesn’t mind if he can’t. This isn’t about sex, but about him remembering his body. She feels his prick twitch under her lips, and she rewards him by kissing all the way down the length, and pulling his sac into her mouth. Her fingers and thumbs knead at his waist, and Kylo’s panting underneath her touches.

“P-please don’t stop,” he mumbles, stammering out his request.  


She laps harder, wetter, then allows his balls to pop out of her mouth as she sloppily licks up to the head of his dick. A dig of nails into his skin, and then she swallows him down. A few inches the first time, then more as her head bobs over his hardening shaft. It only takes a moment for him to thicken fully, and she smiles as she pleasures him. She needs him to know she still finds him just as desirable, and she doesn’t mind how she does it. Harder, further, and when he’s entirely full she lifts her head.

“I want… to be inside of you,” Kylo begs, his hands stroking over her face. “Please. I want you on top of me.”  


Phasma nods, understanding. She does love to suckle him, but it’s also more intimate, sometimes, to join properly. She climbs back up - kissing her way across his chest to his marked shoulder - and then moves to sit astride his lap. 

His hands move to guide her ass, to slide her damp slit across him before they join. She rides her lips over his shaft, her fingers kneading his shoulders. Harder, until his fullness plumps her ready, and she tilts her hips to guide him inside of her. 

“Beautiful,” she tells him, and rocks on his lap. He’s fat and ready for her, but it’s the look on his face that makes her tingle most. “I love you. No matter what. My brave soldier…”  


It is the highest compliment she can pay, and his hands speed her riding, making her spine snap and curve with the coupling. It’s still not as fast as they can go, but it’s closer. 

She smiles when he moves a gust of the Force against her, grinding into her pubic bone and then rubbing at her clit. His hands are busy urging their rolling harder, and hers are on his shoulders. The stimulation helps a lot, and it goes up a notch to almost mimic the mechanical-toy buzz that has her walls clenching around him, and her head thrown back. 

His own head lifts, his lips finding her breast and wrapping on tight enough to sting. He suckles at her, and thrums through the Force, and she’s surprised by how fast the extra stimulation has her getting close to her release. Harder, harder, and she just holds on with one hand, her other spreading her lips wide for his attention, for the feel of herself so open and full at once. She’s going to climax - before him - and she rubs at the sensitive nub above her hole at just the speed and pressure she needs to get her first orgasm shuddering through her. It makes her calves tense, her back arch, and then she’s boneless as he throws her beneath him. 

Tiredly, her legs wrap around his waist to urge him on. She slows the touches to her clit, but doesn’t stop parting her lips as he thrusts harder, faster. The angle is good, but she’s not ready to come again, yet. Instead she enjoys the slick feel of him inside of her, and tightens when she can, to make it good for him. He doesn’t take much longer to spill, and the sensation of his release is a blessing and a gift in one. Deep inside, remarking their commitment, their union. 

Kylo collapses on top of her, shuddering, and she smiles. 

“I told you,” Phasma purrs. “You’re still beautiful. And mine.”

“I’m sorry I doubted you.”  


“You don’t need to apologise,” she insists. “You were hurting. Just… let me help, in future.” And she doesn’t just mean sex. Her fingers touch him all over, and she’s happy he’s mending at last.  



End file.
